Anyone
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: For years he screamed silently and no one heard him. Tonight, that all changes. Seto Kaiba has a nightmare of the abuse he suffered under Gozaburo, that no one ever knew about. Tonight, he'll finally tell his brother.


**Author's Note: Hey guys. Long time no see. This story was very personal to me for reasons I would rather not talk about, so please be gentle in your reviews. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this piece.**

Distance and time seemed to make everything smaller in the eye of the mind. Scar tissue could be put over wounds of the memory until they faded but never quite disappeared. The body moved on quickly from jarring events, but the mind sometimes never made a full recovery. Seto Kaiba knew these truths well. The other truth that he knew was that some scars never faded away.

Seto firmly believed in relinquishing the past to focus on the future. It was a philosophy that had served him well all his life and taken him from being an orphan with nothing to the head of a million dollar corporation. But sometimes, despite his best efforts, things happened out of his control, and his past collided violently with the present.

He would never admit to anyone- not even his brother- the chill of fear that ran down his spine at hearing his stepfather's voice again. Five years of freedom from his totalitarian regime had been enough to nearly scrub his mind free of any traces of the man. But in that moment, seeing his face and hearing his voice, it all came rushing back.

The days he would spend at a desk, studying for hours with no food or drink. The desperate hunger that gnawed at his ribs. The feeling of needing the bathroom but being too afraid of what may happen if he left the room. The frantic, constant prayer that he and his brother could turn invisible so that they would both be spared this torment. The reminders that had stayed with him from those days were all on his body. A small scar on the neck, a metal plate in his arm, and a sense of pain whenever he sat up that his ribs seemed to never let go away.

He'd long since buried the scared child he'd once been, but for a moment, that weak little boy had crawled his way up his elder self's spine. He'd learned to never show weakness as a child, but that did not mean that his weaknesses did not exist. Deep down, he was still afraid, and he'd wondered idly if the sensation would ever go away. He'd always put on a brave face for his little brother, had always known that not depending on anybody was the right thing to do, but it didn't erase the fear that still welled up within him at the sight and sound of his stepfather.

He had been no stranger to abuse. When his aunt had taken himself and his brother in, he'd been slapped and spanked before. But the _severity _of the abuse was far greater under Gozaburo. He was thrown to the ground, had a blade put to his neck, his eye blackened, his arm broken, and his ribs bruised. He'd felt fear strike his heart in ways he hadn't thought possible, all in the name of discipline.

All of those memories came back in the space of a heartbeat, and for half a second, the fear overtook him. But then, he remembered who he was, and all he had become without his stepfather, and his confidence and pride returned to him. He would not let Gozaburo beat him.

Getting to stand up and defeat his stepfather in the flesh- or as close to that as was possible- was a powerful feeling of freedom. The fact that he had gotten the chance to tell him off, to do what he had always dreamed of doing but was too afraid to do as a child, was a dream come true. It felt so good that he could have kept at it forever, but defeating his stepfather's Exodia Necross was the cherry on top of the cake.

Upon escaping the virtual world, he boxed up his past, his fears, his stepfather, and let his freedom warm him.

But in the dark of night, his mind opened up Pandora's box, and let the things he'd boxed away over the years came flooding his unconsciousness. Nightmares, vivid and real, came to haunt his sleep.

_He felt the hunger creating an abyss inside of him. Had he not been being watched, he might have eaten the paper he was working on. His vision tunneled and then widened again, and he feared he might pass out from lack of food and overwhelming stress. But he couldn't focus on that now. He had to keep working, or else the consequences would be worse._

_He was hyper aware of Hobson watching him nearby, could practically feel him breathing down his neck. Though the room he was in was big, he'd never felt so trapped in his life. The prison walls were closing in, ready to come crashing down on him so quickly he feared he might never be able to get back up. _

_He set down his pencil and reached for the water bottle on the desk, only to have his hand slapped away by Hobson._

_"Back to work."_

_"But I-"_

_"Back. To. Work." The words were said pointedly, with no room for debate._

_He sighed, and picked the pencil back up, beginning to work on the problem in front of him again. He had never felt so miserable in all his life. He was parched with thirst, hunger was gnawing at his insides, and his bladder was so full he felt he might burst. Hobson's eyes burned into the back of his neck, and he felt pressure on him stronger than any weight he'd ever felt._

_Be perfect. No mistakes. No emotions. No second chances._

_It was the mantra he told himself daily. One mistake could cost him dearly. He couldn't leave anything to chance. He wasn't just protecting himself, he was protecting his little brother. If he went down, he had no doubt that Mokuba would be taken down too._

_He didn't believe in a God or a higher power, but he couldn't stop himself from praying in those desperate moments for God to keep his head above water. There was nothing else to hold onto, except that frantic hope that he could keep it together enough to let himself and Mokuba survive. In later years he would shun the idea of a God, saying that if one existed, it would have listened to his despairing prayers for Gozaburo to die so that he and his brother could be free. But much as he hated to admit it, in his childhood foolishness he had prayed in a futile hope that someone would listen and rescue him._

_It was a life of walking on eggshells. He never knew what small action would set off a chain of punishment. It could be falling asleep before bed. It could be eating a snack when he wasn't supposed to. It could be being too loud when using the restroom. It could be leaving a door open by accident. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always waiting for the next round of "You screwed up and here's why" to start. He played it safe as he could, but sometimes trying to remember all those little rules was too much for him, and he slipped. Then, the punishment would ensue, and he could always count on it being severe enough to leave a reminder to last for days. Though he was absolutely confident in the fact that someday he would beat his Stepfather due to his superior intellect and Gozaburo's underestimation of him, he knew very well he wasn't strong enough to fight him physically, and also that it wouldn't be smart to. No matter how much he suffered here, it was a way out of the orphanage. There was only one thing he wished he could carry over from the orphanage to here, and it was the feeling of being invisible. In the orphanage, he was ghostlike. Unseen. Here, he was constantly watched and hounded like a monkey on parade. He often wished to be invisible, just so he couldn't get in any more trouble. Most days, in fact, he wished he hadn't even been born._

_Tears would do him no good here. They were marks of weakness that he could not afford to show. He knew it would do no good to scream when he was being beaten, either. Nobody would have heard him. In this house, with it's heavy doors and many rooms, it would have done him no good. The only person who would have heard him and cared was the one person who didn't need to deal with this. He held just enough self control to not scream when he was being broken, because he knew every scream that passed his lips would have terrified his little brother. He had to be strong enough not to do it so that he could protect them both._

_He ignored his starvation, his desperate need for the bathroom, his throbbing headache, because the need for survival was stronger than his basic human needs. Sometimes he wondered if he was human at all, because every last modicum of humanity seemed to be scrubbed from his body all at once. He didn't feel human anymore. He didn't feel anything anymore except the need to survive and protect his little brother, and he supposed that was how it had to be from now on. _

_He worked. He worked until his hand ached from gripping his pencil so hard and his eyes blurred the words in front of him into a jumbled up mess. When he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he forced himself to continue on, until he was more machine than man. He couldn't let his brother down. He couldn't let _himself _down. All the while, he prayed for someone, anyone, to end his suffering._

_Hope came in the form of his little brother, a glimmer of light in the darkness. The duel monsters cards his brother had saved him, and especially the Blue Eyes White Dragon card his brother had made him. It was a thread he could grasp onto, a hope that could not be taken away. His need to survive had been overtaken by a need for greatness. Someday, he would be worthy enough to hold a Blue Eyes in his dueling deck. Someday, he would prove himself a great duelist. Someday, he would prove his stepfather wrong._

_He held onto those thoughts like a life preserver in raging waters. Just as he thought he was going to make it, to finish his work, the world tilted sickeningly to one side, and he passed out._

_He awoke to freezing water being thrown onto him. Dazed, hungry, and confused, he looked up to see the steely eyes of his stepfather staring down at him from his grand throne of superiority._

_"I hope you enjoyed that sleep because you won't be having it again for a long time, Seto."_

_It took a moment for the fog in his brain to clear. "I nearly finished my-"_

_A slap across the face, cracking like thunder, was his reward for speaking. His cheek throbbed, howling in protest, but he made no sound or movement. He had learned to take his lumps and lick his wounds in private. Despite this, fear gripped him with an iron grasp and refused to let him go, though he never showed it on his face._

_"Don't back talk me, boy!" Came the thunderous reply. Before he could recover from the harsh slap, he was being lifted by the collar. Gozaburo's sausage-like fingers held him a good foot off the ground. "I brought you into this house, and I can take you out."_

_Seto was tossed to the ground like a rag doll, before a mighty kick was placed to his ribs. It thrust him backward maybe a foot, and hurt like hell, but he didn't scream. It would do him no good. He could not show weakness._

_A hand went to his ribs automatically, but before he could do much else, Gozaburo held and twisted his arm behind his back in a vice grip._

_"Don't you ever disrespect me again." He hissed. A sickening snap was heard, and it took everything Seto had not to scream or cry. He had no doubt that his arm was broken. It was twisted in such an unnatural way that it couldn't have not been. In a moment of idle thought, he realized he should be grateful it wasn't his writing arm. Gozaburo pushed him down once more, and Seto heard his footsteps exiting the room._

Seto Kaiba shot up in bed with a strangled cry, clutching his arm. His light blue pajamas clung to his body, slick with sweat. He tasted sick in his mouth, bile risen from his throat. He forced it back down, and tried to calm his racing heart with a few deep breaths. When his heart rate had come down enough to be considered normal, he put a hand to his forehead. Why had that come to haunt him now?

It had been a week since the end of Battle City, more since the Virtual World had met its demise, taking his stepbrother and stepfather with it. The book on that part of his life had closed, so why had memory reopened it now? He didn't know, but it aggravated him.

A sound caught his ear. Footsteps, coming down the hall. For a second, his sleep-addled mind thought it was Gozaburo, before he corrected himself. Not only was Gozaburo long gone, Seto knew the sound of his footsteps by heart. He'd learned a long time ago who was walking around the manor by the sound their footsteps made. Heavy stomps paced out slowly were Gozaburo. Shuffling footsteps that almost didn't seem to have a pause between them were Hobson. Steady footsteps that came like the beat of a drum belonged to Roland. These footsteps were not those. These were lithe, quick, almost inaudible. He knew them better than he knew himself.

"Seto?"

His door creaked open, and the face of his little brother could be seen in the darkness. Mokuba's violet-gray eyes were coated heavily with their concern and fear. Though he did not want to be bothered, he wanted to erase the fear in those eyes even more.

"Come in, Mokuba." He said softly.

Mokuba opened the heavy mahogany door, and shut it closed before going over to his brother, hopping up onto the bed. "Are you okay? I heard you yell."

"I'm fine, Mokuba. It was just a nightmare."

Silence settled over them a moment, before Mokuba spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

The words were an olive branch, an attempt to offer his brother peace. Seto was not unaware of this. He pondered telling his little brother about what he had seen, wondering how it would affect him. He recalled Mokuba saying in the virtual world that he'd liked the way it was before they got to the orphanage, to Gozaburo's, because he'd used to smile once in a while. Perhaps he was old enough now to understand why that smile had been wiped away.

"Come here, Mokuba." He said, patting his lap.

Mokuba scrambled into the familiar place easily, settling himself against his brother's chest. It was rare that Seto allowed such close contact without dire circumstances surrounding it, and he savored the feeling as Seto's strong arms wrapped around him protectively. He looked up at his big brother, expectant.

Seto paused a moment, collecting his thoughts as he tried to figure out how to broach the sensitive subject around his little brother.

"Do you remember when we were in the virtual world and you said you missed the way things were before we got to the orphanage?"

Mokuba nodded. "Yeah, but I understa-"

"Mokuba."

The sound of his name was enough to silence him. He cocked his head to one side, confused.

"You deserve to know the reason why I don't smile anymore."

Mokuba's eyes widened imperceptibly. This was not what he had been expecting.

Seto exhaled, a long slow breath. It was warm on Mokuba's neck. Then, he reached for his pajama sleeve, pinched it between his fingers, and rolled it up. When he did, he heard Mokuba's soft gasp.

The collection of scars was visible even in the darkness. Long ones, short ones, vertical ones, horizontal ones.

"Seto…" The word was coated in horror.

He put his sleeve back down. "That's the reason we stopped taking baths together before we went to the orphanage, and even after Gozaburo went missing. It's the reason why I wear long sleeves all the time."

"Our aunt, did she…?"

"Not these. She slapped me once and spanked me, but that was it. These were all him."

"Why didn't you tell anybody? Why didn't you tell _me_?"

"I couldn't, Mokuba. You were so young… You didn't need that on your shoulders. And if I would have told somebody we would have been taken away from him. Much as I hated him for everything he did to me, to _us_, I knew we needed him. He was the key to us having a better life. I couldn't let that slip away. You deserved that. We both did."

"Seto, you didn't deserve _this_." Mokuba's voice was tremulous.

"No, I didn't. I knew that even back then. But I endured what I had to to give us a better life, and I succeeded. How I got there doesn't matter. The fact is, I did it. I got us both out, and I made sure he never laid a hand on you. That's what matters to me."

Mokuba wrapped his brother in the tightest embrace. "It's not fair, Seto! You didn't do anything wrong!"

Seto felt Mokuba's hot tears seeping into his pajama top, and hugged him close. "I know, Mokuba. But life isn't fair to anybody. That was the lesson I learned over and over again. I used to pray over and over for us to be rescued, but nobody was there to listen. I knew that I had to do it myself. And I did it for both of us."

Mokuba seemed content to weep for the moment. Seto pressed him close to himself, trying to block out the rest of the world and the bad memories in himself. He didn't want to open that box again. However, there was one thing Mokuba needed to hear that lived within that memory box.

"Mokuba?" He said softly.

Mokuba looked up at him, sniffling.

"Do you know who gave me the strength to endure it all?"

Mokuba shook his head.

"You did. Every time he was hurting me I remembered the Blue Eyes card you made me, and the way you gave me something to strive for. You reminded me why I had to keep fighting. When I was hungry, tired, thirsty, and hurting, you were there in my head the whole time, cheering me on, and giving me something to strive for. If it wasn't for you, I don't think I would have survived."

"Me?" Mokuba asked, wiping at his eyes.

"You." Seto affirmed, wiping a stray tear from his little brother's cheek. "You gave me strength, hope, courage, and a goal. Every night before I went to bed, I promised myself that I would give both of us a better life someday. You gave me the strength I needed to get out of my bed and endure everything, because I wanted to give you a life that was so different from what I was living back then."

Mokuba gave his big brother a huge hug. "I'm sorry, Seto. Sorry there wasn't anything I could do. I would have tried to help if I could."

"I know." Seto said softly, squeezing his brother gently. "But I wouldn't have let you. You didn't need to be put in harm's way. It was better this way, because he never hurt you."

"Thanks to you." Mokuba added quietly.

The two of them held to one another for a long time. Seto stroked his brother's hair over and over again, hoping to provide his little brother some comfort, but also finding some for himself. A weight had been lifted from him, now. To tell this long-harbored secret to his little brother after so many years of keeping it locked away inside of him was a cathartic release, one he hadn't known he needed until right then. To be able to let this go was a new kind of freedom he hadn't anticipated, but it felt good. He felt better knowing that Mokuba could now better understand why he was the way he was, too. Maybe his actions wouldn't be as much of a mystery to his brother now.

After a while, Mokuba broke the silence. "Seto?"

Seto looked down at his younger brother. "Yes, Mokuba?"

"You know, with everything you did to keep me safe, and how you care about me and all, it's never really felt like you're my brother. It feels like you're more like a Dad. I don't remember our real Dad, but I remember Gozaburo, and I knew that real Dads aren't like him at all. They're more like you."

Seto's eyes widened in surprise. "Like me?"

"Well sure. You're the one who takes care of me when I'm sick, reads to me when I ask, protects me from just about everything, and, even if you don't say it, loves me more than anybody. You risked your life for me so many times, and you weren't thinking about yourself. You keep a roof over my head and keep food on the table. You comfort me from my nightmares and you make me feel better when I'm sad. You help me with my homework, and you never treat me like anything less than an equal. I might not remember Dad, but I'm pretty sure that's what Dads are supposed to do."

Seto felt his heart clinch in his chest at his brother's words and held him a bit tighter. The promise he'd made to Mokuba in the orphanage about being his father now was made real in those words. He hadn't known how to raise a child. He'd barely had any real example of parenting to look at as a reference. He'd taken Mokuba as his responsibility to raise and teach from that day, at the age of ten. He hadn't known what he was doing, or what raising a child would entail. He hadn't had anybody to ask for advice. He had only ever seen examples of what he didn't want to be like. But perhaps that was the one thing he should be thanking Gozaburo for. Because of his cruelty, he'd known who he hadn't wanted to be, which was perhaps just as important as who he did want to be.

"Thank you, Mokuba." He said quietly, squeezing his brother just a little tighter.

"I love you, Seto."

"I love you too, Mokuba."

The words were a rarity coming from him. In his eyes, actions spoke louder than words, and therefore hugs tended to be far more common between them than those words. That only made those words so much more powerful when they were spoken, however. Mokuba treasured those words more than any others in the English language.

Quiet blanketed them both for a while, a comfortable silence wrapped around them, when Mokuba spoke up again.

"Seto?"

"Yes, Mokuba?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight? I think you need the company."

Seto couldn't help but smile a little at his brother's thinly veiled attempt to keep close to him- not that he was complaining.

"Of course, Mokuba."

Mokuba's grin was bright enough to light the whole room. He scrambled out of his brother's lap and got under the covers. Seto smiled, and crawled in next to him. Mokuba nestled himself right into his brother's side, just as he had done at the orphanage all those years ago. Seto wrapped an arm around him, and listened as his brother fell asleep.

All through his childhood, he'd prayed for someone, anyone to hear him. Somebody finally had. It was over. Wrapped in the cashmere comfort of that thought, Seto Kaiba fell asleep, and the nightmare haunted him no longer.


End file.
